


It's Always Darkest Before the Light

by hope_savaria



Series: Beautiful Trauma [1]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Backstory, Comfort, Confessions, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, POV Debbie, Partners in Crime, Pining, Pre-Canon, Rigging Bingo, Sickfic, Songfic, rough patch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 15:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_savaria/pseuds/hope_savaria
Summary: "Lou and I were rigging Bingo and running cheap cons at Roulette..."Debbie isn't exactly top-of-her-game when she's sick, and Lou knows it. There's really not much to be said for rigging Bingo in New Jersey, but Debbie is stubborn, especially when she feels like Lou is slipping through her fingers...





	It's Always Darkest Before the Light

**Author's Note:**

> P!nk: Beautiful Trauma (2017)  
> Track 3 - Whatever You Want 
> 
> ...
> 
> Oh, I know, I know, I know you think it's me 'cause you want it all  
> I know, I know, I know, I know you see, do we gotta talk  
> No, you know, you know we must believe  
> You're enough for me
> 
> I feel like our ship's going down tonight  
> But it's always darkest before the light  
> And that's enough for me to try  
> Whatever you want  
> Whatever you need  
> Whatever you do...
> 
> Even if I say that it's over now  
> Even if we want to move on somehow  
> And just like that we come alive  
> Whatever you want  
> Whatever you need  
> Whatever you do
> 
> ...
> 
> (Winter 2008)

Debbie stood in front of the bathroom mirror staring at the person reflected in the glass. If she was being honest, she barely recognized herself. It wasn’t just that she was dressed in a horrible royal blue velour sweat-suit, or that she had been nursing a persistent cold for two weeks that gave her a red nose and watery eyes. There was something in the dark eyes staring back at her out of the mirror that didn’t look quite right. It was as if she thought she knew something that the Debbie in the mirror didn’t know, but really it was the other way around. It was unnerving for there to be something about herself that she couldn’t pin down, something she didn’t understand. She sniffed and watched her own lips part slightly as if they were a stranger’s or a mark’s. She looked weak and tired, which – admittedly – wasn’t the worst look for rigging Bingo in New Jersey, but the fact that she didn’t have to _try_ to look this way – well, it stung a bit.

“Are you ready?” Lou sauntered into the bathroom wearing a horrible leopard print sweater and her usual leather pants and jacket. Despite her self-pitying mood, Debbie felt her heart lift at the sight of her easy confidence. Lou was really the one carrying this little job. She had found the Bingo hall, set up the deal with the host, decided on their signs and code words, and driven them to Paissac every week for the past month. All Debbie had done was stolen a few crappy outfits from Walmart, made sure the money was split up evenly and securely between their accounts, and found them a tiny studio apartment in Brooklyn that had only slightly fewer cockroaches than the crummy hotel room they had lived in for most of the winter. Perhaps that was what made all of this so infuriating. Debbie had lost her touch, couldn’t keep herself from getting distracted and reckless, and Lou – with all of her swagger and _logic_ – had reined her in just before things fell apart. Lou still _cared_ , and it grated on Debbie’s nerves.

“Debs?” Lou prompted, laying a warm hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah?” Debbie turned to look at her and realized she had been staring off into space in the general direction of her own reflection for at least two minutes, not bothering to answer Lou’s original question. “Oh, sorry. Uh…yeah, just a sec, uh…” She swiveled on the spot, trying to locate her waterproof mascara.

“You okay?” Lou asked, moving behind Debbie and gently massaging her shoulders. “We don’t have to go tonight if you’re not up for it.”

“Who says I’m not up for it?” Debbie asked, pausing with her mascara brush halfway out of the tube.

Lou winced at the combativeness in Debbie’s voice. “Honey, if you ever want to get rid of that cold, you need to _rest_. I can handle Bingo one night on my own, or—”

Something unpleasant bubbled in Debbie’s stomach at those words. “I’m fine,” she said coldly, cutting Lou off. “I’m up for it. We’ll be back here before 10 anyway.”

Lou sighed and ran her fingers gently through Debbie’s hair. “Or,” she said quietly, leaning in to whisper consolingly in Debbie’s ear, “I can stay here _with_ you. We can get take out, watch a movie, get some extra _sleep_ …”

Debbie closed her eyes and hesitated. A yearning ache – born from Lou’s soft voice and her fingers now rubbing reassuring circles on her scalp – grew in her chest at the thought of Lou taking care of her, but right alongside it, there was a rising wave of guilt. Lou was taking care of _everything_ now, and Debbie didn’t deserve it, not after three failed casino jobs last fall. And besides, she was already trying to be mad at Lou for putting a deadline on their time as…whatever _they_ were. If this unseasonably warm February was any indication, spring was just around the corner, and that was when Lou planned to leave – to take off on her bike for a solo adventure before the remainder of her savings was squandered on Debbie’s reckless schemes. 

“No,” Debbie said finally, opening her eyes and leaning forward out of Lou’s embrace to apply her mascara. “No, I’m okay.”

“Suit yourself,” Lou said, stepping sideways to adjust her necklaces in the mirror and zip up her leather jacket. Debbie saw a disappointment in her eyes that she didn’t understand, but there was no time to consider it now. 

“Let’s go,” Debbie said, holding out her hand to Lou and tilting her head towards the door. Lou hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking Debbie’s hand, squeezing it, and following Debbie out of the bathroom.

**

There was something grounding about riding on the back of Lou’s bike. The rumble of the engine was far too loud to allow for conversation, but wrapping herself around Lou had always been something akin to words for Debbie. There had been a few exceptionally cold days this winter when they had driven Lou’s old Toyota instead. While it was pleasant to sit back and listen to Lou’s music and doze with her head against the glass, Debbie preferred the intimacy of nestling her hips around Lou’s on the bike, of the subtle movements of Lou’s shoulders as she steered, of the undeniable sensuality of the vibrating engine between her thighs.

Today, tucked against Lou’s back, Debbie found she could breathe easily and deeply despite her cold. When had this become _home_? When had _Lou_ become home? The questions seemed to flow into her and through her as the wind whipped around them. She was going to miss Lou. She was going to miss her bike and her music and her stupid consignment-store wardrobe. She was going to miss her perfume and her shoe collection and the way she fidgeted anytime there was a need to sit still for longer than five minutes. Most of all, Debbie was going to miss her eyes and her smell and the warmth of their bodies pressed together on the bike, in fancy clubs, in their bed. Debbie sniffed and felt a warmth behind her eyes. It was the wind, she told herself, just the wind and her cold. She wanted to be angry with Lou, wanted to hold onto her and tell her not to go, or to surprise her one morning by saying, _yes, baby, of course I’ll come with you._ But she couldn’t. Debbie needed to stay as much as Lou needed to go, and that was something neither of them could change.

Lou had chosen the Bingo hall in Paissac because it was one of the few that served alcohol. The beer was shit and the wine was worse, but at least it meant that everyone around them was just a little less observant than normal. Lou usually had a beer just to blend in; Debbie never drank. She preferred to just let herself become invisible in the way that only an Ocean could. Debbie sat close to Lou in the middle of the hall, surrounded by increasingly intoxicated pensioners. Her mind felt foggy, and she conceded – to herself only, of course – that Lou had probably been right to suggest that they stay home. The money was good tonight, though – a lot of people had shown up, probably thanks to the slightly warmer weather. They could make a couple thousand if they waited it out. Debbie sighed and immediately coughed. Lou smirked at her, and drained half a pint of beer in one go.

The sounds of the hall faded into white noise in Debbie’s brain, but she was dimly aware of the fact that three empty cups now sat in front of Lou. She blew her nose to get Lou’s attention and looked pointedly at the cups. Lou merely rolled her eyes and dug in her pocket for a cough drop, which she handed to Debbie with an expression that was almost a sneer. Something was very wrong here. Lou knew her limits, never drank _this_ much _this_ fast. Debbie narrowed her eyes slightly and pursed her lips. Lou looked away shaking her head as yet another number was called, but she threw an arm around Debbie’s shoulders nonetheless, pulling her close in an embrace that was both comforting and infuriating. She was _missing_ something…

Lou called in on the game too early. Debbie watched her tug her ear at least an hour before the time on which they had agreed, and it suddenly hit Debbie that Lou really didn’t need her there at all. Debbie crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to notice the way Lou’s words slurred or the way she swayed as she stood up. Hot anger and shame were rising in Debbie’s cheeks, and she was grateful for her very obvious cold that effectively hid the side effects of her rage. When Lou returned to the table with the wadded cash and a mocking grin on her face, Debbie swallowed hard and shifted in her seat to put a few inches of space between them. The distance achieved nothing other than to make Debbie feel chilly and clammy in the dry, overheated air of the hall. She zipped her sweatshirt up a few inches and tried not to look at Lou.

Debbie followed the plan and waited fifteen minutes before taking her shot. She used Lou’s shoulder to push herself to her feet when she called “Bingo,” fingernails digging in ever so slightly as a warning: time to leave. The room seemed to swim around her as she walked to the prize table and collected her money, by the time she turned back to the room, Lou’s seat was empty. At least she had taken the hint. Debbie pocketed her money and headed for the door without looking back. Leaving early meant that they wouldn’t be able to come here again for a few weeks, and by that time, Lou would probably be gone. Debbie kept her gaze lowered as she left the room, pulled on her coat, and walked the short distance down the sidewalk to the parking lot. Lou was leaning against the bike, smoking a cigarette with her head thrown back and her hair shining in the light of the streetlamps. She seemed steady now, but Debbie was fairly certain she couldn’t be sober enough to drive home – not yet, anyway.

“You look dead on your feet, Debs,” Lou said, finally looking at her when Debbie was a foot away. Her expression had softened out of the hard smirk she had worn inside. Debbie simply glared at her. There wasn’t a trace of slurring in Lou’s speech now, and the fact just wound Debbie tighter.

“What the hell was that?” she asked. Her tone was more accusatory than she meant it to be, but she was feeling antagonistic.

“What?” Lou asked innocently.

“You’re not drunk,” Debbie noted, tugging the cigarette from Lou’s fingers.

“You don’t smoke,” Lou shot back, stealing it back before it reached Debbie’s lips.

Debbie scoffed and looked away from her, arms folded tightly over her chest. She felt like shit, and she doubted that their combined money was even close to what they’d been promised. “Seriously, what the _fuck_ , Lou?” she muttered at last, scuffing her shoe against the asphalt.

“Debbie, if you were in any way fit to be here, you would have noticed I started drinking ginger ale two hours ago,” Lou said, turning to face Debbie and raising her eyebrows.

“So, what, this was all to make a point? Because we also have to make _rent_ , you know?” Debbie argued, her voice rising. “And I have to _keep_ making rent, Lou, after you _leave_.”

“You won’t have to worry about making rent if you get caught and sent to prison, which is what’ll happen if you refuse to take care of yourself.” Lou’s voice rose to match hers, and Debbie felt relieved that they had left early since it meant there was no one around to overhear the argument.

“I can look after myself, Lou,” Debbie replied coldly. “You _know_ that.”

“Do _you_?”

Debbie looked down at the ground and kicked a rock as hard as she could with her toe. It bounced away across the pavement and into the grass by the sidewalk. Her head was pounding, but a whine at the back of her head told her that Lou was right. She had become far too distracted over the past few months to remember that she was still a _person_ who needed food and water and who got sick sometimes. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” Debbie said firmly, actually trying to believe the words this time, even though they brought back the yearning ache in her chest. Debbie flicked her eyes up to Lou’s for moment and then back down to her feet, hating the righteous concern in Lou’s blue eyes.

“No,” Lou agreed, “You don’t, but I think you forget that sometimes.”

Debbie shrugged. “Maybe,” she conceded, too tired to maintain the argument. 

“And Debs?” Lou’s voice was soft now once more. The ache in Debbie’s chest throbbed.

“Yeah?” Debbie looked up reluctantly.

Lou stared back at her for a long moment before replying. “Sometimes taking care of yourself means listening to people who care about you.”

Debbie huffed a humorless laugh. “But you’re _leaving._ ”

“I’m not leaving tonight, Debbie,” Lou said, sliding closer to Debbie and tucking her against her side. “You’re stuck with me for a few more weeks.”

Debbie leaned into Lou and smiled sadly. _A few more weeks_. After nine years together, they only had a few more weeks. _Oh, Lou_.

“And I didn’t just mean _me_ , you know?” Lou added. “Tammy’s in Westchester County not Western Australia, and you may as well be a princess as far as Danny is concerned.” Lou squeezed her close.

“I don’t want to be anyone’s fucking princess,” Debbie said bitterly.

“Not even mine?” Lou winked and crushed her cigarette butt beneath her toe.

Debbie smiled and felt a blush creep into her cheeks that she hoped Lou wouldn’t notice in the dim light. “Are you asking?” she said quietly, narrowing her eyes at Lou curiously.

Lou’s lips parted slightly, and Debbie could tell she was surprised by the sincerity in her voice. Lou considered her for a second, head tilted and eyes searching. Debbie’s heart beat in her throat. “You know,” Lou said finally, “I think – one day – _you_ should ask.”

“Ask you to be my princess?” Debbie said with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Lou said, cupping Debbie’s jaw in her hand and running her thumb just beneath Debbie’s lower lip. “One day.”

Debbie stood frozen for a second, her mind whirring. “Okay, Miller,” she said finally, “you’ve got yourself a deal.” Lou grinned and leaned forward to kiss her, but Debbie held her off with a finger on her lips. “But,” Debbie said firmly, “it means you have to come back.”

Lou kissed the tip of Debbie’s finger. “ _Of course_ , I’ll come back. Now, will you move your finger so I can kiss you and get you home?”

Debbie nodded and let her hand fall to Lou’s shoulder. True to her word, Lou closed the distance between them, tilted Debbie’s chin upwards, and kissed her firmly and briefly. She tasted like ginger ale, and Debbie rolled her eyes at herself. Lou was right. She had to be better, had to get her head sorted out and remember who she was. Debbie tucked herself onto the motorcycle behind Lou once more and took a deep breath. The ride was long, and Debbie was so exhausted by the time they reached Brooklyn that she fell into Lou as she dismounted from the bike.

“Hey, hey,” Lou said, catching her by the forearms, “I can’t carry you up the stairs.” She said it in a good-natured, casual tone, but there was something like heartache behind the words that Debbie noticed even in her weakened state.

Debbie nodded against Lou’s shoulder and pulled back enough to allow Lou to half-support her up the flights of stairs to their door, which she opened with the hand that wasn’t wrapped securely around Debbie’s waist. Debbie’s limbs felt heavy, and her head was pounding. She still felt cold, though the apartment was warm, and she suspected her fever had returned. Oh, she hated that Lou was right about needing to take better care of herself.

“Here,” Lou said, handing her a makeup wipe once they had stumbled into the bathroom.

“Thanks,” Debbie muttered, leaning heavily on the edge of the counter and slowly willing her hands to lift to her face and remove her makeup. Her red-rimmed eyes gradually reappeared from beneath the layers of eye liner, and Debbie groaned in disgust.

“Oh, Debbie,” Lou muttered with a shake of her head, finishing with her own makeup and reaching for her moisturizer. “It’ll pass. You’ll look twenty-five again by next week.”

Debbie’s mouth twitched in spite of herself. “You’re too kind,” she replied with a half-sarcastic, half-sincere tone.

Lou rolled her eyes and passed Debbie a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water on her way out of the bathroom. Debbie grimaced as she swallowed the pills. Her mouth felt fuzzy and dry from all the coughing, and even brushing her teeth twice didn’t seem to help much. Giving up, she joined Lou in their tiny bedroom, tugging half-heartedly at her clothes before collapsing face-first onto the bed. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and though she knew that moving was inevitable since she was spread out over the entire mattress, Debbie couldn’t bring herself to budge. A minute later, cool, dry hands settled on the skin of her lower back, gently skimming upwards under her sweatshirt to unfasten the clasp of her bra.

“Turn over,” Lou murmured, tugging gently on Debbie’s hip. Her voice gave Debbie just enough strength to obey the suggestion, and Lou unzipped her velour sweatshirt and slid her bra from her shoulders. Goosebumps rose on Debbie’s flushed skin despite the warmth of the room, and Lou hummed sympathetically. “You’re burning up, Debs.”

“I know,” Debbie replied in a defeated tone.

Lou sighed and turned her attention to Debbie’s pants, pulling them off in a fluid movement that Debbie hardly registered. “You want some pajamas?”

Debbie shrugged noncommittally and then shook her head. The draw of the warm blankets and the warmth of _Lou_ was enough to get her to shift slowly up the bed while Lou undressed. Debbie lay on her side and pulled the covers up over her ears. She felt Lou slide into bed behind her and leaned into her warmth. Lou planted a soft kiss to the back of her head, and Debbie felt a lump in her throat that was quite separate from the discomfort of her cold.

“Gonna miss you, baby,” she rasped, not meaning for the confession to fall from her mouth. Lou was silent for a long moment, and Debbie knew she was as surprised as she was that Debbie had actually said the words.

Finally, Debbie felt Lou brush her hair away from her ear and lean close to whisper, “Oh, honey, I’m going to miss you every day.”

Debbie squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw as a sob threatened to choke her throat. Lou reached over Debbie to turn off their single lamp, and Debbie was grateful for the darkness that hid her tears. Lou tucked herself around her and breathed slowly, either unaware of the emotion wound tight in Debbie’s body, or choosing to let Debbie hide it. It was probably the latter, but either way, Debbie appreciated the silence, couldn’t bear to feel anything except self-pity at this moment. She matched her breaths to the rise and fall of Lou’s chest, and let her mind wander into a future where letting Lou take care of her made Debbie feel important instead of guilty, where taking care of Lou was an act of…of _what_ exactly? Maybe missing Lou for a while would allow her to figure out the answer to that question. Debbie felt her tears subside, drawing comfort from Lou’s last words to her, _I’ll miss you every day,_ and from her earlier promise, _of course, I’ll come back_. Debbie would savor these last few weeks together, because on the other side, the future looked incredibly bright. With that thought, Debbie relaxed in Lou’s embrace and drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the song (with *all* the lyrics):
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHrpTT1-fPg
> 
> ***
> 
> Hi y'all!
> 
> P!nk isn't an artist that I generally follow, but I work in direct care, and one of the women I support absolutely LOVES her album, Beautiful Trauma. SO, now I know all the songs and I can't get them out of my head re: Debbie and Lou.
> 
> There will be 13 fics in this series, so please please subscribe to the series! I am posting the fics chronologically as they fall in Debbie and Lou's timeline, rather than in the track order from the album. New ones will be posted every Friday. There will be pre-canon, movie timeline, and post-canon stuff in this series, and it all fits in with the stuff in my other non-AU Loubbie pieces. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (ALSO some of them get kinda angsty/don't end happily, but I can ONE HUNDRED PERCENT PROMISE that the series will end happily.)
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who reads my work. I can't tell you how much I love your comments. Seriously.
> 
> Many thanks to go_get_your_top_hat - my girlfriend and live-in beta-reader! <3 <3 <3
> 
> ***
> 
> Please leave kudos and let me know what you think! I respond to every single comment I receive.


End file.
